


It's Not Love

by glassthroat



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst and Feels, BECAUSE THEN I DO STUFF LIKE THIS, Do not ever let me listen to 'Love The Way You Lie', I SLAPPED THIS TOGETHER IN LIKE-- five minutes--, I can't even describe how much those two songs match AiShin, M/M, and their relationship, angst tho, bby lieutenant Aizen, captain Hirako
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:12:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1428034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassthroat/pseuds/glassthroat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not love, this thing between them.</p>
<p>                  Not love.</p>
<p>What it is is hard and and cruel sometimes, the sneering exposure of flat white teeth beneath a skinny nose and the upturn of firm lips every time hazel eyes are cast towards the source of suspicion. He offers nothing, is but smoke and mirrors when those long-fingered hands grasp at his presence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Love

> __ So maybe I’m a masochist  
>  I try to run but I don’t wanna ever leave  
>  'Til the walls are goin’ up  
>  In smoke with all our memories

It’s not love, this thing between them.

                  Not love.

What it is is hard and and cruel sometimes, the sneering exposure of flat white teeth beneath a skinny nose and the upturn of firm lips every time hazel eyes are cast towards the source of suspicion. He offers nothing, is but smoke and mirrors when those long-fingered hands grasp at his presence.

          It’s bruises on wrists, teeth at throats, a chemistry that staggers both of them but they can’t admit that it’s what they want, can’t admit that they burn well together and that it’s the burn they both love even as they risk the scars that’ll come from getting too close to the firestorm that they generate.

          It’s temper tantrums and disgust, clawed scratches on backs (for if they can’t agree on things outside the bedroom, then it certainly won’t ever work inside it either) and sore satiation afterwards, the awareness that they don’t have to use one another the way that they are when it happens but both knowing that they can’t ever look elsewhere, won’t look elsewhere—  
                                   ~~not when they belong together like this.~~

           It’s musk and half-hearted spewing of venom from the older man, watching the dark eyes darken further, deepening in shade and they get covered in ink more than once when they don’t even get undressed and Shinji learns the art of muffing his shouts behind a palm as he arches into the thrusts that roll his body back and forth, his clothed erection rubbing the edge of the desk, teeth at the back of his neck, fingers pushing beneath his shihakusho to grip and fist him and get him off so violently he sees stars even as those teeth bite into him, there’s a shudder, a push, completion and they’re melting, gasping—.

                  It’s Aizen breathing  _Mine_  without actually saying it on the blonde’s flesh, the younger man’s possessive nature writ clear in the mapping of bruises along the sternum that lift eyebrows every so often when they’re fresh, the bite marks on the lieutenant’s throat and he simply smiles, the scraping of red streaks down across collarbones and they both renew those marks almost as soon as they start to fade and yet they shouldn’t, it’s not against the rules but they both know that it can’t last, they’re burning too hot, a supernova each.

                 He doesn’t trust his lieutenant but he still has the urge to try and control something, to keep his young shadow controlled somehow and they collide, throwing sparks into the night and Shinji never knows how he finds himself with Aizen’s legs over his hips as he has him against the wall, all aggressive fucking as those elegant hands (he hates those hands sometimes for they’re distracting at the best of times) tangle in the long hair that he knows Sousuke loves and which the brunette will spend hours working on later to comb out every single tangle he’s put in there.

           It’s not love. Not for them.

                   They can’t be that vulnerable, not with each other — it’s impossible. But sometimes, when the morning sun is starting to fill the room and the shadows of night are pulling back, in those moments between sleep and wakefulness as they lay together in a tangle of limbs and fabric, the brunette’s face pressed into the back of a shoulder while one arm remains about the skinny torso, it’s just soft enough and gentle enough that they’re—

                        _ **something**_.

                     And Shinji knows that he can’t let things last like this but he doesn’t know how to make it end. He knows he should but it won’t work.  
  
                                                          It just makes what happens later so much worse.


End file.
